While I was hanging out on the front porch swing one day last week, keeping my left leg elevated as I recover from full hip replacement surgery, a butterfly landed on my right foot.
So maybe that isn’t particularly unusual, but something highly unusual then took place: It stayed on me for close to an hour.
The whole time, this butterfly was moving slowly from place to place, often spreading its wings flat and then pulling them up together. I couldn’t help but stare at it off and on as it became a relatively familiar partner.
I had my laptop computer with me, so I looked up butterflies in Missouri and determined it was a red admiral.
For the record, the red admiral (Vanessa atalanta) is the most widespread butterfly in Missouri and is widely distributed across temperate regions of North America, South America, Europe, Asia, North Africa and the Caribbean. It is typically found in moist habitats near the edge of forests (like where my wife, Wendy, and I live).
Their distinctive look includes primarily black wings, with a bright orangish-red band on the fore and hind portions, and white spots on the tips.
The adult butterfly drinks from flowering plants and overripe fruit, while the caterpillar’s primary host plant is the stinging nettle, and it can also be found on the false nettle. The red admiral is a migratory insect, flying south toward warmer climates in winter and moving back to the north in late spring, when food is more plentiful.
But scientific stuff aside, it’s safe to say that some red admirals aren’t at all fearful of human beings – at least one anyway.
As I watched it closely for an extended period of time, I noticed it using its proboscis (that coiled contraption at the front of its head) to inspect various spots on my foot, as if maybe searching for something edible. Meanwhile, its antennae moved frequently from side to side and up and down.
It would walk up toward my ankle, and then move down toward my toes. And then it would repeat the process.
Watching it operate so curiously and fearlessly was fascinating.
It was with me so long that I spoke out loud to it a few times, saying things like, “so nice to have you around,” “what are you up to?” and “are you a girl or a boy?”
But it more or less ignored me and went about whatever its business was, as it treated my foot like some sort of science project.
Eventually, I had to get up from the swing, so I gently shook my foot and the delicate, colorful winged insect flitted away.
I said out loud, “goodbye, and thanks for the visit.” It had been a peaceful, rather relaxing encounter.
Interestingly, the experience was similar to one that occurred several years ago when Wendy and I went kayaking on Noblett Lake, south of Willow Springs, and a butterfly landed on my leg and hung out for a very long time. It even remained as I paddled around, as if it was enjoying the ride, before it finally decided it had had enough and flew away.
Anyway, I guess I’m at times somehow attractive to butterflies, and I’m certainly OK with that.
And it could be worse. At least it’s not buzzards or copperheads. That could get a bit awkward.
